


Next To Me

by oopsabird



Category: DCU, Wonder Woman (2017), Wonder Woman - All Media Types
Genre: (if you squint), Angst, Charlie and the fight against toxic masculinity, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Friendship, Gen, M/M, Mutual Pining, Nightmares, Past Alcohol Abuse/Alcoholism, Post-Canon, Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder - PTSD, Team as Family, epilogue compliant, sober Charlie
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-03-18
Updated: 2018-03-18
Packaged: 2019-04-03 23:25:24
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,440
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14007129
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/oopsabird/pseuds/oopsabird
Summary: After the war Charlie's drinking stops, but the nightmares don't. Luckily, he has people who’ll take care of him - if he can learn to let them.





	Next To Me

**Author's Note:**

> title is from [this song](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=-C_rvt0SwLE), which came out the other week and made me go "wow, my favourite band is writing songs specifically for my otp now, lit!"
> 
> this fic is compliant with the main tenets of the canon [Epilogue](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=YOb_PkrJokk&t=10s) (i.e. Charlie has quit drinking and the guys are doing field missions as a team under Etta's command). it is set in early December of 1918, during their second mission (probs somewhere in Central Europe).
> 
> warning(s): deals with mental illness, nightmares and a panic attack, and the character's related negative thoughts about themselves/their worth and the validity of their emotions (these thoughts when voiced are contradicted, and rightly so, by another character). there are non-specific mentions of past alcohol abuse.

        Charlie’s eyes fly open and he jolts awake, the scream that dies in his throat half-muffled by the jacket folded under his head.

        He throws off the blanket and bolts upright; in the dark he can see firelight from behind him flickering across low brush and towering walls of craggy rock. Beneath his bedroll is hard flat stone - above, the dark predawn sky. For a moment, the pounding heartbeat in his ears and his own heaving gasps for air are the only sounds, the only signs of life in this ravine.

        Someone behind him grabs his shoulder.

        Charlie lashes out, swinging his fist as he turns - it stops mid-air a fraction of an inch from Sami’s nose, his fingers curling tight around Charlie’s wrist. Behind Sami Etta gasps, hand over her mouth; Chief watches from across the fire.

        “Charlie, breathe,” Sami says firmly, his tone sickeningly gentle, “you are safe, it’s only me-“

        “Get off!” Charlie snarls and wrenches his arm from Sami’s grasp. “Get away from me!”

        He shoves him away forcefully; Sami lurches back under the blow with a gasp, tripping on the hem of his long striped coat. He falls backwards and lands sprawled across the rocky ground beside the fire, gaping at Charlie with eyes wide.

        Charlie scrambles to his feet, face burning with shame, and stumbles away from the campsite without a backwards glance.

        “Charlie wait!” he hears Etta call after him.

        “Let him go,” Chief says behind her, quieter.

        Sami says nothing at all.

        Charlie barrels blindly through the pitch-dark undergrowth, barely registering the resistance of small branches that catch and tug at the legs of his trousers. He doesn’t know where he’s going; he just needs to be away, away from his friends’ pitying looks and the disgust they surely hide; away from where he can hurt them; away from the voices inside his head that screech  _weakling_  and  _coward_  and  _monster_  and  _failure_ _failure_ _failure_

        He breaks free of the brush and into an open clearing, the ravine’s towering stone walls falling away behind him. Tears burn his eyes and he swipes them away furiously with the sleeve of his sweater, lurching unseeingly forwards in the dark across the flat open stone.

_Coward weakling broken monster failure weakling weak weak broken cowardly-_

        On the next step forward, Charlie’s left foot falls through empty air.

        He tips forward for a terrible second, strangled scream dying in his throat as he windmills his arms desperately, feet teetering on the edge of an invisible yawning void.

        Somehow he throws his weight back just enough to defy gravity. He tumbles safely backwards onto solid stone, landing flat on his back with an undignified “oof!” as the wind is knocked from his lungs.

        For the second time that night Charlie sits up gasping for air, heart thundering in his ears as he squints to see what he has nearly fallen into.

        Darkness still shrouds his surroundings, but in the far distance the sky has begun to lighten, tracing out the silhouettes of a far-off mountain range that mirrors the one they are camped in. Slowly the faint grey light spreads, illuminating the far mountains, then the deep valley they border, and finally the sheer cliff dropping down into it that lies at his feet. He leans forward to peer over the edge - it’s a straight drop down into the shadowy rocks far below.

 _Geezus_ , Charlie feels his hands begin to shake violently as he sits back again.  _God, I almost fell, I could’ve-_

        The post-adrenaline shock of it all hits like a tidal wave, sending him overboard into full-blown sobbing tears. He buries his head in his hands, knees curling up to his chest.

        “Ach, quit cryin’,” he growls, fingertips digging into his forehead as he tries to choke back the tears, “fuckin’ s-stop cryin’ an’ be a man. Grow the hell up, c’mon.” He tugs viciously at his hair, pressing the back of a hand over his mouth as if it can hold in the sobs. “S-stop this, come on,  _stop it_.”

        The war is supposed to be over. It’s all supposed to be over - he thought the dreams had left with the drinking.

_If it’s over, why am I still like this? Why am I still broken? Everyone else is moving on, everyone else is getting better, so what’s wrong with me? Why am I still sick? Why am I so bloody **weak**?_

        Something rustles in the undergrowth behind him, large and moving closer. Charlie doesn’t know if there are bears here but he grabs for his gun anyway, realizing as his hand hits empty stone beside him that it’s back at the campsite. Recalculating, his fingers reach the handle of the trench knife on his belt just as he scrambles to his feet and spins to face-

        Sami, blinking bewildered at him from edge of the bushes a dozen feet away. He looks Charlie over in the low light, brow furrowing as he takes in bloodshot eyes and the half-drawn knife.

        “Shit,” Charlie looks down and away, shaking hand leaving the knife to wipe tears from burning cheeks. “Shit, s-sorry.” He turns and sits back down a few feet from the cliff’s edge, staring into the lightening valley. “You can go, ‘m fine.”

        “You do not seem fine to me,” Sami says gently behind him, a little closer than he was before. “Are you crying?”

        “Look, just GO AWAY!!” Charlie bellows over his shoulder, the shout echoing off the mountains. He crosses his arms over his knees, burying his chin in the sleeves of the sweater. “I dinnae want your pity,” he snarls, “so you can just go right ahead and leave me the  _hell_  alone.”

        He watches through blurred vision the growing light catching clouds of his breath in the air. His gloves and jacket are back at the campsite, and the sweater isn’t quite doing the job of fending off the cold - he shivers in a slight gust of wind blowing up from the valley. All is silent on the ledge behind him, and Charlie screws his eyes shut against the dawn and curls further in upon himself.

_Now he knows just how weak you are, now he knows and he’s finally given up, you pushed him away and he left you, just like you wanted, just like you deserve, you wretched pitiful little cowardly-_

        A light, warm weight settles over Charlie’s back, blocking out the cold. Blinking in surprise he sits up, hands dropping from his face to catch the edges of Sami’s striped coat, which is now draped across his shoulders. He turns and sees Sami standing next to him, staring out at the growing spot of purple over the far mountains with both hands in the pockets of his suit jacket. His expression is unreadably neutral, a perfect mask over whatever is in his mind.

        Just as Charlie opens his mouth to speak, unsure what he’s even about to say, Sami beats him to it.

        “It’s not pity,” he says quietly, eyes still locked on the glowing horizon. “Never has been.”

        “Should be,” Charlie mutters, dropping his gaze to his feet, “don’t deserve much of anythin’ else, ‘cept maybe for you to be pissed off.”

        “That is not true,” Sami says, that same infuriatingly calm tone. “You deserve to have someone looking out for you.”

        “Oh, for christssakes Sameer,” Charlie grits his teeth, rolling his eyes. “It was one thing when I was always dead drunk, an’ you were just tryin’ to keep me from fallin’ down and bashin’ my head in.” He swallows around the lump in his throat, “But I’m  _sober_  now; there’s no reason for me not to be better, and I don’t bloody well need you to nanny me anymore. I’m not that fuckin’ weak.”

        He hears Sami sigh, and glances over at a slight scuffling noise to see him settling down to sit with knees pulled to his chest, hands folded over them as he continues to watch the sky turn to pink. The rosy glow across Sami’s face softens the lines of his frown and furrowed brow, painting him in fading shadows and soft pastels; something in Charlie aches at the sight. He quashes the feeling like always; burying it deep and pulling his anger back up around himself instead.

        “I never said you were weak,” Sami says softly, a gentler edge to his voice this time. “And I didn’t help you during the war simply because you were drunk, Charlie. I did it because you are my best friend; because I care about you. Because it hurts to see you hurting, and I want you to get better. You deserve to get better.”

        “I told you, I’m  **fine**.” Charlie hisses, crossing his arms and glaring down at the valley. “I don’t need any goddamn help, I don’t need anyone lookin’ after me!”

        Sami huffs a hollow, bitter-edged laugh.

        “And here I thought  _I_  was supposed to be the liar on this team.”

        Charlie grunts indignantly. He shoves Sami’s coat from his shoulders and plants both hands flat on the rock, ready to push back up to his feet and stalk away.  _I don’t have to stay here and listen to this._

        He feels Sami’s hand cover his and freezes, breath catching in his chest. Blinking hard against the renewed stinging in his eyes Charlie turns his face resolutely to the sunrise, unable to meet Sami’s gaze; he doesn’t pull his hand away.

        “It isn’t weakness, you know - letting someone take care of you.” Sami says, voice kind and firm and earnest. “When people want to help you, it does not mean they believe you are weak, Charlie. It simply means that you are  _loved_.”

        Charlie has to swallow hard again before he can muster words.

        “Don’t think I deserve that,” he mumbles, fighting not to cry.

        “Doesn’t matter,” Sami says softly, squeezing his hand. “You need it, and that’s the only thing that counts.”

        The tears are rolling silently down his face now, and Charlie doesn’t even try to stop them. Sami’s hand lifts away for a second, and his heart drops; then the warm weight of the coat settles over his back again, this time held in place by Sami’s arm around his shoulders as he tugs Charlie in close against his side.

        Overcome, Charlie lets his eyes fall shut and leans into the embrace, resting his head on Sami’s shoulder with a shuddering sigh that turns into a sob.

        “It’s okay.” Sami is steady, warm and solid beneath Charlie’s cheek, though his voice betrays a slight waver. “It’s okay.” Not a word is said of Charlie’s tears soaking into his jacket; Sami just squeezes his shoulder and holds him as he cries, patient and kind.

        The sun keeps rising, bathing them in a deep fuchsia glow.

        “Thank you,” Charlie croaks hoarsely after a while, eyes still shut, “for the coat.” He hopes that Sami will hear what he really means - that this is thanks for everything else too; everything he can’t quite say.

        “ _De nada_ ,” Sami says quietly against his hair, rubbing his shoulder through the coat and seeming to understand.

        Suddenly the glow behind Charlie’s eyelids flares brighter, warmth blooming across his face.

        “Oh my goodness,” he hears Sami whisper, voice soft with awe. “ _È magnifico_.”

        Charlie opens his eyes and blinks, momentarily blinded by the sun that has crested the mountains - then his vision adjusts and he gasps, eyes widening.

        The valley beneath them is ablaze with flame - or at least that’s how it looks. Every rock is painted the same fiery orange as the skies, with stark black shadows cutting through here and there where the jagged cliffs block the sun.

        “Ho-lee shit,” Charlie whistles softly, sitting up slightly and rubbing at his eyes. “Now there’s somethin’ you don’ see in London.”

        “Indeed,” Sami chuckles, thumb drawing absent circles on Charlie’s shoulder. “It’s lovely.”

        Charlie turns his head to look over at Sami, at his half-grin awash in that gorgeous light; the sharp shadows of his jaw; the shine of the sun on his sleep-mussed curly hair.

 _Yeah,_  Charlie smiles a little despite the tightness in his chest - knowledge of things he cannot have.  _Lovely._

        The sunrise is already beginning to fade to normal daylight. Sami blinks and breaks from his reverie to smile at Charlie, apparently unaware that he was being observed.

        “Ready to go back?” Sami asks, pushing to his feet and extending his hand. “Etta should be getting started on breakfast by now, and you know it’ll be a damn sight better than anything we usually manage to scrape together.”

        Charlie grins shakily and lets Sami tug him to his feet, holding the coat in place with his other hand.

        “Well, it cannae be any worse than that breakfast you made on our last mission in Liège,” he teases weakly, elbowing Sami lightly in the ribs as they begin to walk.

        “Hey, that was not my fault!” Sami exclaims. “I had limited supplies!”

        “Ya, and  _I_  almost had food poisoning!” This is familiar territory, easy and sure; Charlie bites back a smile as they fall into step with their typical bantering.

        “You cannot ‘almost’ have food poisoning, Charlie,” Sami rolls his eyes. “You either have it, or you don’t - and  _you_  did not.”

        “Tell that to my stomach!”

        They bicker good-naturedly all the way back to camp, the sun rising clear and bright behind them.

        Upon their return the team settles in for breakfast around the fire, and conversation is haltingly awkward at first; Etta has never seen one of Charlie’s nightmares in person before, and it’s clear she doesn’t quite know what to say. Soon with Sami’s careful encouragement the usual camaraderie returns, words flowing comfortably like any other morning. Nobody comments on Charlie wearing Sami’s coat, even when he gives it back against Sami’s muttered protest that he needs it more; Chief just wordlessly hands over a blanket from the supplies which Charlie accepts with a grateful nod, the matter settled.

        Etta serves up extra helpings of food for all of them, and Charlie insists on doing the cleaning up after - she in turn insists on giving him a great big hug, ostensibly as a thank you. Almost to his own surprise Charlie allows it without protest, wrapping both arms tight around her once he recovers from the initial surprise. Over Etta’s head he meets the gazes of Sami and Chief across the campsite, and they both offer reassuring smiles that he hesitantly returns. Sami positively beams, a proud glow in his eyes.

        Maybe, Charlie considers, he really is loved after all.

**Author's Note:**

> Sami I think would be pretty comfortable with emotions (and the expression thereof) in a way most men of the time would not have been, because good acting requires you to get in touch with that sort of internal stuff and not shy away.
> 
> this may be part one of a 5+1 fic eventually, or continue to exist as a standalone with the other parts being put out as unrelated oneshots. for now I have marked it as complete.
> 
> I don't have 26 WIP's and ideas on the go for this ship, _you_ have 26 WIP's and ideas! (publish them, please)
> 
> you can catch my hazy-eyed ravings further on [tumblr](https://oopsabird.tumblr.com)


End file.
